Never After
by osmandias
Summary: Can a pure heart, the hope of a princess, be destroyed when there is nothing else to cling to and their dreams fall to ruin? XaldinxAurora crack!pairing. DISCONTINUED
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **This fanfic is the production of "What if?" added with a strong dash of my own crack!pairing. Xaldin is one of my favourite of the KH characters, Aurora is my favourite Disney princess, and I decided to place both together with as realistic a storyline as I could.

All characters are property of their respective owners.

Comments are appreciated and loved.

* * *

As the world of Radiant Garden gave its last quivering gasp, breaking under the chaos that the darkness had brought from beyond the opened door, Dilan felt a part of himself crumble as well. It had nothing to do with his home being destroyed, or of his friends vanishing one by one. It was a breaking on an inner plane, of a betrayal that cut deeply across his prideful heart. Faithlessness deeper than the one he had helped to commit against this world's once rightful king. Perhaps it was because of that act that he had deserved the treachery given to him.

By himself, alone in one of the many snaking hallways of the castle, Dilan carefully watched the darkness that was spreading. Behind the man, covered in a murkiness that was unnatural, the hallway seemed to branch on forever with no escape. Before him, movements similar to a colony of ants, was a seething mass of living shadows. Vacant eyes, the only source of light within the black mass, locked onto the man – onto his beating heart – and refused to let go. Keeping his distance from them was his priority at the moment. Finding an escape route was his second concern, a chamber that had not already been touched by the darkness. A safe haven, a place where perhaps the others already were. Seeing how quickly the darkness spread, Dilan did not believe there was a place within the castle that lay untouched.

Tendrils of living darkness seeped upwards from velvet carpets, streaking the alabaster marble with veins of black that quickly turned into cancerous stains. Snaking across pipes that twisted and buckled, twining itself into lamps that guttered out and died, the shadows continued to swell. Its lethal will driving it forwards, the darkness corroded everything that its touch met, folding it into impartial obscurity.

A lance whirling skillfully in his left hand, another gripped loosely in his right, the warrior never took his stormy violet-blue eyes off of the shadows. If he turned away for an instant, blinked for a moment too long, then it would be over. Swarming like bees, the shadows kept their distance from him, skittering from side to side. Some crawled along the sides of the walls, their claws clinking against the marble, all the while fixing Dilan with their soulless eyes. Whenever one of the shadows drew up enough courage to launch itself at Dilan, a quick sweep from his lances would send it scuttling back into the security of the group.

Cautiously backing down the hall with his lances at the ready for the sudden attacks that the shadows favored, Dilan felt his mind begin to wander. The warrior growled deep in his throat as a sudden memory, burning over his heart like molten lead, surfaced. He tried to contain it, push it away, to stop it from jarring his attention to the threat before him. The shadows sensed it – knew that he was off-guard – and in that moment attacked.

With brute force the darkness crashed into Dilan. He met the threat head-on. Dilan struck quickly, parrying wicked talons with the lance held in his left hand, the one in his right striking rapidly into the black mass. The keen points of the lances embedded themselves into the shadows, dispersing the threats like smoke in the wind. It was useless with how many he sent into oblivion; the darkness was endless. Another shadow was readily took the place of the one previously killed, always reaching for his heart. The darkness continued on with merciless single-minded determination. Dilan moved with a speed born of desperation, the lances flashing in the dim light as he fought against the rising tide. Anxiety began to overtake him, his self-control beginning to waver. Every step he took back, of his own volition or forced, was another step that brought him closer to the edge. To his...

"No!" His deafening shout echoed down the hall as he speared a shadow through its neck. It wriggled on the jagged blade, vainly trying to dislodge itself before sinking back into the blackness.

Dilan refused to believe that he would be meeting his end here, in a hall that was void of everything. He refused to give into his rising panic. What would the others think at seeing him, of all people, giving into fear? The thought of that sparked Dilan's rage; he knew Elaeus would never let him forget if he saw Dilan like that. If he could hold out for just a moment longer, make it out of this passageway, he could find one of them. And perhaps, with their help, escape the insanity of this doomed world.

Drawing back against a shadow's rapid lunge, Dilan realized too late that his left side was unprotected. Taking the sudden advantage, a shadow slashed its talon across the back of the lancer's left hand. Agony coursed over Dilan. Dropping the lance in a spasm of pain, he kicked the shadow as it was still trying to slice his hand from the rest of his body. Its yellow eyes bore into the man's as it vanished in a cloud of black smoke. Fumbling as he tried to pick up the lance, Dilan failed to grasp it as the pain in his left hand disoriented him. Shadows covered the weapon, now making it impossible for its recovery. Stumbling backwards from the darkness, always backwards, he gripped his remaining lance with both hands as best as he could, blood trickling down the wooden shaft and over the blade.

The lancer steeled his heart and mind against the darkness roiling toward him. _Just a while longer. _He felt his body beginning to quiver with exhaustion, the shadows pressing in. _I can hold out for a few moments longer._ Dilan wondered if he had those moments to spare, those hollow eyes burning into his. _A few more moments. _He questioned if anyone would come with the darkness everywhere.

Giving a battle cry, Dilan took the fight to the terrifying shades. Slicing a figure eight through the wall of shadows, he jabbed the tip of his lance into the chest of one that boldly leapt at him. It twitched erratically before vanishing. No longer caring for their own safety, the shadows clawed at his legs, tried to jump onto his back. They were desperate beings, hungering after his heart. Dilan whirled against them, becoming a maelstrom of movement that would allow nothing near it. For every cut the shadows inflicted on him, the lancer returned the favor by destroying two of them.

Nothing could touch him.

Nothing _would _touch him.

His attack having forced the darkness to retreat, Dilan attempted to catch his breath in the battle lull. He knew it would not last long, not with the way those vacant eyes looked at him. Fatigue was beginning to make itself known to him. How much longer could he last? A shadow, larger and stronger than the others, emerged from the head of the crawling murkiness to face Dilan. A silent command given by a brief nod from its head, the lesser shadows ringed about the two, twitching impatiently. Readying for a heart's release.

Without a warning it attacked, launching itself at Dilan with the same mindlessness as the others. Its claws reached toward his chest, reaching for the beating heart caged inside. Dilan deflected the strikes with his lance, trying to trade blow for blow, his strength failing him, the pain from his left hand breaking his concentration. The shade sank fluidly into the shadows, only to reappear a moment later to the man's right like quicksilver. Talons slashed upwards to his chest, aiming for a fatal blow. Dilan pivoted, bringing his lance up to take as much of the strike as possible. Cleaved in two under the shadow's force, a horrible cracking sound muted in the gloom, the lance's pieces were scattered into the murk. The strength behind the blow was enough to send Dilan, at the end of his stamina, crashing to the ground.

Throwing up an arm to stave off the final attack from the shadows, Dilan heard the sound of a trigger being cocked behind him. A familiar voice rang out down the corridor, "Heads up!"

A flurry of violet tracers flew through the gloom, close enough for Dilan to feel the wind against his skin. The tracers embedded into the shadows, reeling from the sudden attack. Many of them vanished into the murk. More of them merged into the safety of the darkness, the volley of firepower missing them. Scuttling backwards with their mindless yellow eyes gleaming, the shadows regrouped further down the hall, safe again in numbers.

Dilan unsteadily rose to his feet, cradling his injured hand with his whole one. Relief flooded over him even as his body screamed for respite. Someone had found him. Someone was still alive in all of this madness. There was a still a chance, a slim chance for survival. Footsteps pounded down the corridor toward Dilan, who half-turned to see his rescuer, still keeping an eye on the crawling shadows.

It was Braig. Of all the people in the entire castle, it was Braig that had rescued him. Braig, who had an opinion on everything. Braig, the loudmouthed gunslinger that sang foul-mouthed lyrics whenever he could. Braig, the ass. It was a wonder that he was even considered a scientist, with his disposition and mental capacity. The lancer reflected, as he lurched over to the gunman, that Braig would never let him live this down. If both managed to live long enough to survive the castle.

"I can't trust you to handle anything by yourself, huh? It's always Braig to the rescue, no matter what. You owe me big for this." Holstering his guns, the man gave a sharp smile that promised he would collect on the debt. Slapping Dilan on his left shoulder in solidarity, Braig hastily pulled his hand back when he saw the larger man wince.

Dilan held up his wounded hand for the sharpshooter to see the injury. "They will pay for what they did. Every single one of those things." His eyes narrowed menacingly at the shadows.

"You and me both. The bastards took my eye, fucken hell." A sardonic note tinged the man's voice.

For the first time since being rescued by Braig, Dilan looked at him. The man was in the same condition as the lancer – beyond physical exhaustion, nothing but adrenaline pumping through his veins to keep him going. The smirk that had been one of Braig's constant features had been wiped off, replaced with a tautness that was unlike him. His clothing, much like Dilan's, had been stained with his own sweat and blood, ripped in several places. What caused Dilan to cringe was the wound Braig had spoken of. A thick bandage had been wrapped over his right eye; the gauze already stained deep red with blood. More blood was clotted in Braig's long brown hair, tied in a loose tail down his back.

Braig chuckled, his good eye gauging Dilan's reaction. "It's not that bad. Well... it _is _but I got something for the pain. Still..." He nodded toward the shadows that had begun creeping back down the hall. "I think we should get somewhere safer before they attack again. Don't worry about turning your back on them, just run. We can make it. Trust me."

The gunslinger's advice being sound for once, Dilan turned and ran with Braig into the gloom. Both pushed themselves beyond their physical limit, the fear of what was behind lending them speed. Their booted feet echoed harshly in the empty corridors, breath ragged in their chests. Neither had to look over their shoulder to know that the darkness was right behind them, growing as it crashed through the halls. Keeping pace with one another as they hurried through passageways devoid of people, Dilan saw tendrils of darkness spreading along the walls. He pointed it out to Braig, whose silent response was to run faster.

The shadows were close on their heels, a twitching, seething, living sea that desperately wanted their beating hearts. Claws scratching on marble, the crash of objects sent plummeting to the floor, the breathing silence that hounded them, it was almost overpowering for the two. Braig hollered for Dilan to turn left at the next intersecting passage, his voice nearly lost in the rising swell of darkness. Following the gunman down a steep flight of steps, the two sprinted for the end of the corridor. An opened door was there, beckoning refuge from the murderous shadows. The air in Dilan's throat felt like it was on fire, his last reservoir of strength fading, his muscles burning. Braig was only a breath behind him, flagging as badly as Dilan.

Darkness seeped through the marble floor, forming quickly into shadows. Yellow eyes, vibrant in the gloom, latched onto their quarry. It was now or never for them; Braig and Dilan put on one last burst of speed, a last desperate bid for survival. Dilan crossed over the chamber's threshold first, nearly colliding into an overturned table. Braig was a fraction of a second behind him, slamming the heavy door shut. Dilan pressed his weight against the metal as Braig set the electronic lock, securing both of them in the empty room. On the other side the shadows began to pound against the door, claws screeching horribly against the metal.

Dilan backed away from the door, never taking his eyes off of the trembling metal. How long would it take before it buckled under the continued assault, until the shadows poured through onto the other side? Instead of voicing the question, he turned to Braig. "Where is everyone else?"

Braig shrugged tiredly, breath catching in his throat. Leaning up against the broken tabletop, the gunslinger wiped clotted blood mixed with sweat from his brow. "No clue. You're just lucky I found you with everything going to hell in a handcart." He took out his guns, checking them over. Counting how many rounds he had left and finding the number to be lower than he expected, the gunman swore loudly. The man turned a sweat-stained face to Dilan. "Here, you might want to bind that wound up. I won't be using it." Braig tossed the man a white bandage; Dilan caught it effortlessly. "And you should find yourself a weapon. I think you'll be needing it." He nodded wordlessly toward the door, giving a wicked smile.

"I was just about to do that," Dilan muttered, hating how Braig was already trying to take charge. He scanned the area while bandaging his injury, wincing as the cloth covered the raw skin. Noting that they were in one of the many computer chambers that were spread over the castle, it looked as if there had been a fight raging in here not long ago. The computer towers had been broken, the databases cracked in half, the upholstery of the chairs torn to shreds. Hunting around the smashed computer monitors, which cast the room into an indigo hue, Dilan turned up nothing that he could use as a weapon. His heart plummeting into his stomach, the lancer also realized that Braig had locked them in a room with no escape.

"We have no way out of here," Dilan stated. He turned accusing cobalt eyes to the gunslinger, his good hand curling into a fist. "Locked in with the darkness on one side, and we have no way to escape from here. We're trapped."

Giving a one-eyed look at his friend, Braig nodded. "Yeah, we're screwed. I think this whole world is." Dilan stared at Braig in open contempt. He was not even attempting to apologize for leading them to this room, to what would be their end, and now at the worst of all times Braig was being reflective. A scowl crossed the lancer's face; Braig continued without noticing it. "You know, I might be going out on a limb here with logic, but it's weird that when Xehanort and his research vanished, all of this started to happen. Do you think he succeeded in what he'd been driving at?"

A loud crash against the metal door made both of them turn. Small dents were beginning to appear in the metal from the continuous assault. Neither voiced what the other was thinking – that it would only be a matter of time until the shadows found its way into this room, and they would meet the same fate that everyone else had.

"If he did, then I don't think he – or any of us – expected these results." Dilan warily eyed the door as he uttered those words. "Perhaps Even might have hypothesized such an outcome, but he would have given it the barest of percentages. I'd believe that's what he would have said."

"When we see 'im again, then I'll be sure to ask." A silence descended on them, broken only by the shadows continuous battering on the door. "Do you think... that we deserve this?" Braig gingerly touched his bandaged head, feeling at the empty socket. He shuddered as he felt the ripped flesh and bare bone, wiping the blood off onto his pants. "With everything that's happening out there, to the people, to us?"

Opening his mouth but unable to find the words, Dilan was at a loss on how to respond. Abruptly the memory that had nearly cost him his life back in that dark hallway made itself known. It settled over him, darkening his mood even further. Curling his right hand into a trembling fist, a blistering rage taking him, Dilan bit out a retort through clenched teeth. "I don't claim to know if we deserve this Braig, but some people just might."

Braig, having known Dilan for a long time, saw his temper change and could easily guess its source. He raised his good eyebrow and folded his arms over his slim chest. "Do you know where she is?"

Dilan knew all too well. Before the chaos had come to Radiant Garden, a personal hell had visited him. The man had seen his love – the woman he had considered his _true _love – with another. It had been purely chance that Dilan had come across the two, her strolling through the city's promenade with her arm linked in his. The way she looked at her new lover, the gestures that she used, everything down to the slightest glance, at one time she had looked at Dilan in the same way. The lancer had watched it with an agony that had torn deeply into him.

He had learned one thing from this betrayal. True love did not exist. It never had, and never would.

Anger festered in him day and night, never leaving. Something inside of Dilan vanished, replaced with bitterness and cruelty. Thoughts turned to revenge, of how he could inflict the same pain on someone that he would have once given anything for. One of the mottos Dilan had always lived by was like for like, holding fast to what it demanded. Braig knew of this and the danger it could bring. The gunslinger had only been able to provide answers through drink, enough to calm Dilan into not doing anything rash or stupid, as anger would have taken him to.

Shrugging, Dilan looked Braig in the eye. "No, I have no clue."

What Braig did not know – what Dilan would never tell him – was that he did know where his former love was.

Or had been.

When the darkness had begun to spread, the people had fled to the safety and refuge of the palace. How would they have reacted if they had known that the shadows had been spawned from the one place that was supposed to offer sanctuary? Dilan had been with Elaeus at the gates of the castle, pushing people back as the darkness had spread like wildfire through the mob. He had seen her in the crowd, screaming like the others as one of the shadows crashed down on her. Those eyes had locked with Dilan's as she saw him standing at the gates. Within that shared gaze, hers pleading for him to rescue her, his coldly watching, she _knew_. That pathetic look had turned into a mixture of emotion; horror, fright, and regret.

Her betrayal would be met by another, like for like. As she screamed when the darkness tore her heart from her chest, the festering anger within Dilan sang.

"Like for like," he had muttered before turning to flee into the labyrinthine halls of the castle. He hadn't stayed to see what happened afterwards. There was no need to, not with the darkness gaining the upper hand. Others could die at the gates, but Dilan would find a way to survive for a while longer. No one, not even Elaeus, had seen what Dilan had done. No one would ever know. It brought a cruel smile to Dilan's pale face that, even in the turmoil, he had received the revenge he had wished for. His only regret was that he had not been able to administer it with his own hand.

Jarred from his dark thoughts by the sound of tortured metal, Dilan gaze crossed to the door. Beginning to buckle under the continued assault, the dents in the metal were becoming more pronounced. Three quick bangs rocked the door against the lock and hinges, cracking the plaster surrounding the frame.

"Here they come," Braig muttered, readying his guns as the metal began to bend visibly before their eyes. In the ghostly light from the monitors, Braig looked exhausted. Spent. "You know, I'd just like to have one question answered before I go. What happened to Xehanort? Is it too much to have that answered?"

Dilan shook his head ruefully. "We may very well find out sooner then we think. Perhaps we have nothing to fear at all."

"Yeah." The sharpshooter's good eye looked at Dilan, considering what he had said. That ironic smile curled over his lips as Braig enjoyed the idea, giving a dry laugh. "Hell yeah. See you on the other side then. Maybe we'll see everyone else there too."

There was no more time to speak. Perhaps everything that could have been said between the two had been said. Dilan turned hard eyes to the door, waiting for the final ending of Radiant Garden and everything that he had ever known.

The door burst open, shadows flowing in like mercury. After that it was only fighting that mattered, only to breathe a moment longer, only to _be _for a moment longer. Braig shouted, firing his guns into the darkness as it took him, uttering one last defiant cry before vanishing into the swirling melee. Dilan turned to find his comrade, found only suffocating shadows as they pulled him under. He lashed out, refusing his fate. He lashed against the darkness inside of his heart, of the pain that it had been unwillingly given. All of the anger, the festering hatred for all that he could not control and for what he could not stop, broke over him.

It lent him strength, a brief respite and then it was gone. The shadows rushed him, overtook him, dragging him under into its dark maw.

Dilan gave one last rebellious cry as the nothingness consumed him, his world fading in oblivion.


	2. Chapter 1

Magic held this world in its powerful grip, relinquishing neither to time nor to the seasons. Even before he stepped out of the dark corridor, Xaldin could feel the enchantment in the still air. It draped itself around the castle and across the lands beyond the walls, an opaque veil that suspended everything caught within its folds. Materializing into the castle's throne room, the only being not trapped by the magic, Xaldin cast his gaze over the assembled court.

The aristocracy, dressed in their crushed velvet and satin finery, looked as if they had been cast from wax. Halted in the act of eating and drinking at the banquet tables, those dancing frozen in mid-step, none of the assembled nobles drew a breath. In the stillness, it almost had a macabre appeal to it. The moon hung heavy in the night sky, its light seeping through the stained glass windows and casting colourful patterns across the flagstones. Dust motes floated down from the ceiling, dancing over moonbeams that provided illumination in the darkened court. It turned the pallor of those frozen by the spell to that of corpses.

Xaldin's footsteps were muted, no doubt attributable to the magic that had seeped into the castle's foundations. Walking past the nobles without glancing left or right, Xaldin halted when he reached the dais on which the thrones sat. The king and queen held a quiet dignity to them that even enchanted sleep could not erase, a sharp contrast to the paunchy ruler that lay sprawled on the dais itself, his face frozen in a loud yawn. Xaldin moved closer to the rulers of the enchanted court, noting how no breath stole over their lips.

"How stately you all appear, yet it's the same in the end. Collecting filth and cobwebs." Running a finger over the queen's armrest, Xaldin critically inspected the dust on his glove. "A waste."

With a face reflecting contempt for the frozen royalty, Xaldin looked about the hall itself. A fine coating of dust rested on everything that stirred only when the man brushed past. Tapestries of both royal houses, the checkered red and black contrasting that of the emerald green, lined the walls of the majestic court. Garlands made from white lilies and roses had been wrapped about pillars and banisters, the flowers strewn freely over the tables and onto the floor. With time poised, the feast that had been set out – a lavish banquet – did not spoil. The tablecloths, fine damask the colour of ivory, were edged in gold, catching the soft moonlight.

If Xaldin were to hazard a guess, it looked as if the castle had been caught up in a wedding feast, one that had been interrupted by this enchantment. The only people that were missing from the celebration itself were the bridal party. It was only a passing thought for the Nobody, an observation out of the many made within the great throne room.

He had, in spite of what was set before him, only been sent to this world to observe. Sure of Maleficent's return despite her demise at the hand of the Keyblade Master, Xemnas had sent the Whirlwind Lancer to investigate, to watch and wait for signs. With powers like Maleficent's, it was only a matter of time until the sorceress appeared once more. Rarely did one with such authority over the Darkness _stay _dead. Barely months following the witch's death Xemnas was already beginning to suspect phantoms and ghosts. The Superior did not want a contestant for his power, not when the Organization's true plans had even yet begun. Xaldin had bowed before Xemnas' commands. Having made his way to the sorceress' home world, all that was needed was information into the actions of the witch and return. The world was as Xemnas had told him it would be: a kingdom caught in a spell, with magic that would only be broken with True Love's first kiss. Xaldin hid his grimace at the tale.

Such a monotonous romance. In all the worlds that Xaldin had been to, such stories were commonplace. He never understood why people held to fairy tales, the theme persistently tied to true love and the promise of everlasting romance. By creating such stories it only showed how fearful people were to facing the cruel realities of life.

There was nothing within the throne room that divulged to him information about the sorceress. Without a backwards glance at the frozen festivities Xaldin moved to the other parts of the palace.

Long hallways, as dark and as dusty as the throne room, stretched out before him. Allowing his intuition to guide him, arriving in the central courtyard, the Order member turned to sweep his gaze over the whole of the castle. The iron gates set within the protecting wall had been lowered, barring passage to all that would attempt to enter. Vines had crawled across the heavy metal frame, interweaving with the iron until it was near impossible to see where nature and the hand of man began and ended. The intricately carved arches of buildings, supported by soaring buttresses, rose like mountains in the fading night sky. On the edge of the rooftops, stone gargoyles hissed fiercely to ward away evil. Towers, gracefully rising from the stonework, stood like lone sentinels against the approaching dawn.

Xaldin's roving eyes stopped on a lone tower that rose higher than the others in the castle. As the worlds had been restored to their former glory, so had the people who had been expelled from those worlds returned home. From other reconnaissance missions, one to Hollow Bastion itself while still in Darkness' grip, the Organization had watched the movements of the Princesses' of Heart. Aurora, having been untied from the spell of her world, had been seen walking and conversing with others. Now having returned safely home the princess of this cursed world slumbered, waiting in her tower for her prince to come.

If any warnings of Maleficent were to be seen, surely the witch would start with the princess.

Stepping over the prone forms of the nobility mixed in with the raffle, the more exuberant festivities having moved outside of the palace halls, Xaldin started for the tower. Ascending the twisting steps, kicking up the suffocating dust with his feet, III passed by windows that allowed him a bird's-eye view of the horizon beyond the walls. He viewed a choking forest of black thorns ringing the castle, a blight cast by the now-dead sorceress. Xaldin was sure that anyone determined enough could break through, given time. The stories always spoke of it, the righteousness of the prince or hero that would see him safely to the end. It was absurd enough that a cynical laugh, empty of feeling, came from the lancer.

The stairs ending at the tower chamber's entrance, Xaldin opened the wooden door, striding into the room where the princess slumbered. Roses' perfume drifted over the Nobody, the flowers twining around the rough walls of the chamber. Delicate blossoms nearly obscured the stonework, a multitude of colours eternally in bloom. Xaldin only saw harmless shadows that filled the grimy corners, nothing that presented a threat. Curtains flapped gently in the wind, stirring the roses. Lifeless petals tumbling to the ground, scattered by the breeze across the smooth marble; Xaldin's eyes following their flight until they came to rest against the frame of a bed. His eyes moved upwards, and III saw closely for the first time the sleeping princess.

Under a canopy of purple and gold, lying on a divan with a rose clasped in her delicate hands, Princess Aurora slept. Locks of golden hair spilled over her bare shoulders, the tiara and necklace she wore further accenting the paleness of her skin. Aurora's face held a look of blissful anticipation, her red lips curled into a faint smile, thick lashes closed over eyes that surely dreamed. Clad in a dress the hue of sapphire, Aurora seemed the embodiment of all that a princess should look to be. Brocaded covers spilled onto the floor, fallen after being placed on the princess to protect her from the damp chill that filled the tower room. There she waited for true love's first kiss.

A contemptuous smile appeared on Xaldin's pale lips.

"I suppose it is your wedding the people are celebrating below. Do you even know of it, while you repose here in sleep?" Xaldin stood over the princess, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. Aurora was lovely to look upon, a fair prize for her knight in shining armour. He bent over her, gathering a spill of her golden hair in his gloved hand. Bringing it to his lips the lancer inhaled her scent. Reminiscent of the roses that were in bloom, there was something else that lingered on the princess, a coy perfume that he could not place. "Are you a blushing bride waiting for the moment she has dreamed of, or fearful because she does not know the man she weds?"

The princess did not answer. Aurora did not stir as Xaldin knelt at her side, his face nearly touching hers; no breath passed her lips. "How long will you wait for love? Here you will gather dust while your prince forgets you, replacing your memory with another. It has happened before to so many, why should you be the exception to this? True love," he sneered, "how can you have hope in such a thing when it has done this to you, Princess Aurora? How can you have faith in something that does not exist? If you only knew what I know. Then perhaps you would be less accepting of your fate."

Bound in the enchantment, the princess could not hear the poisonous words that were said. Xaldin supposed that if she were awake she would try to flee; he would pursue, the scathing truth following. His tone was derisive; the lancer could not understand the reasons why Aurora waited, that in her sleep her expectation for the beautiful ending to a fairy tale never wavered. "You could be better served elsewhere. A Princess of Heart, whose destiny is more glorious than this, deserves more than to wait as the world passes her by." Xaldin trailed his hand down the side of her face, feeling no warmth from her skin. Perhaps it was his own imagination, but Xaldin thought he saw Aurora recoil from his touch.

His words gave him pause.

Sinister mind racing, Xaldin reflected on what had been spoken. He could detect no trace of Maleficent or her powers within this world, but as the Superior had said, it did not mean she would not return. What better way to deal with a threat when one had leverage on their side? What better token to use than Aurora, who once had been crucial to the sorceress' plans and might very well become again? It was not only that – a Princess of Heart could perhaps advance the Organization's plans. Xemnas, for all of his brilliance, had forgotten to include such a thought into his schemes.

On an ominous note, one more personal and without the gain of Organization XIII in mind, Xaldin wondered if within the princess' heart there was a chance for Darkness to spread. The scientist in him was not quiet and gone. Xaldin wondered if the theories behind the Princesses hearts harboring only light could be true. Perchance once the hope and promise of true love had been stripped from her, even a Princess of Heart was not immune to Darkness. The discernment was interesting, Dilan's memory of past affections turned awry resurfacing within Xaldin. Why should Aurora be denied one of the singular truths, that love was only a needless emotion, a weakness that should be cast aside by those who had hearts?

As the sun broke over the horizon, bathing the sleeping kingdom in the first rays of sunlight, Xaldin decided.

"Come princess, we shall leave this sleeping world. Destiny has something far more wonderful awaiting you." Bending to take Aurora into his arms, the pounding of booted feet rushing up the stairs gave the Whirlwind Lancer pause. The door crashed open, the sound a crack of thunder in the stillness. A young man charged into the chamber with his sword drawn, sweat-stained clothes and fatigue showing on his face. Aurora forgotten for the moment, Xaldin turned toward the new arrival, scowling with the promise of violence to follow.

Much in the same way the fairy tales played out, this young man could be none other than the prince coming to claim his bride. "Get away from her," the prince's voice rung out commandingly. He advanced toward the dark man without fear, his blade pointed at the Nobody's chest. When he realized that the ominous stranger would not move aside, the prince spoke again, more forcefully this time. "You'll leave the princess alone. No harm will come to her as long as I stand."

Distantly amused at the boy's display of heroism, Xaldin applauded mockingly. The prince was only a boy playing at being a hero, easily seen by any seasoned combatant. Even in the way that he held his sword, it spoke of inexperience. "And here I was under the belief that the prince would never come."

"Leave." The sword's point never wavered, but the prince's arm was beginning to tremble. From exhaustion or something more? Had there been a slight falter in the boy's voice?

"For someone that holds a sword and talks about protecting your princess, you haven't acted on your words." Xaldin did not move. Instead he folded his arms behind his back, staring down at the royal brat. Daring him to make a move. "I can see why so much time passed before you came for her. You had to work up the nerve to do so."

Offended by the intruder's words and manner, the prince's voice seethed with anger. "How dare you suggest such a thing? I am her true love, and I will give the kiss that shall break the spell. She will--"

Xaldin waved a dismissive hand. "Once again, you talk without acting on your words. Someone with such feeble character has no right to call the princess his own." Xaldin took a step closer to the prince, unconcerned of the sword's blade pointing at his non-existent heart. Unconsciously the prince backed away from Xaldin, never noticing his loss of ground "Where was her prince when this world was taken into Darkness? Another prince, a beastly one, came to save the one he cared for. Yet you never arrived. Tell me, what were you doing in the princess' absence?"

Goading the boy's rage was easy. Damaged pride was something that royalty would not let pass without a fight. His battle cry resounding in the small chamber the prince charged at Xaldin. Side-stepping the intended blow, Xaldin grabbed the prince's wrist in one hand, his right shoulder in the other. The boy did not drop his sword in the crushing grip, but he was unable to make a strike. Using the momentum behind the prince's charge, Xaldin threw the young royal against the far wall. Cruel laughter following as he heard the sound of the prince's skull cracking against the stone.

Breathing heavily, the air painfully expelled from his lungs, the younger warrior drew himself up. His voice became defiant. "I am Prince Phillip." Blood trickling down from a wicked gash on his forehead, the boy faced Xaldin. His sword reflected the morning's light, the sheen on the blade silver. "I have come for the princess, and if it takes the last breath in my body to set her free, I will. I have faced numerous trials and bested them, and I shall best you."

Raising a graceful eyebrow, Xaldin sneered. "Will your actions speak the truth of your words?" Phillip nodded, eyes narrowing, his anger dominating him. Rolling his shoulders in indifference, the Nobody chuckled. "If you wish, boy. You should have chosen your opponent more carefully."

Too late Phillip understood the meaning behind the stranger's words. Xaldin never gave empty threats. A rising windstorm filled the tower chamber, the strength behind it pressing Phillip against the wall, tearing roses from their branches. Grit flew into the prince's eyes; he had to look away to stop from being blinded. Xaldin summoned his lances into existence, the metal staves gleaming cruelly against the rising sun. As the wind died Phillip saw his opponent no longer just as an intruder, but as a deadly combatant. Holding a lance in his left hand, five others circling him acting as a shield wall, Xaldin's eyes blazed at the expectant battle.

The Whirlwind Lancer had expected a challenge from the prince. He had thought that the young man's anger would have driven him forward to foolish acts of bravery, a heroic display of courage that the stories spoke of. Assuming that the royal brat had been trained by masters of blade and shield, Xaldin anticipated a notable duel. The cold reality of the situation gave rise to a harsh truth. Without magic to protect him Phillip was still a little boy playing hero.

Charging at the Organization member against the raging wind, Phillip slashed for Xaldin's throat. The lances blocked. Yelling in rage the prince redirected his strike, hoping to break through the warrior's guard. To embed his sword into the dark man's chest, watch him writhe in pain. That was his goal. Xaldin deflected each cut effortless, face impassive. Within the confined space, Phillip was unable to close the short distance between himself and Xaldin. Lance held in his hand, Xaldin gave a strike of his own, a deep cut across the prince's chest when his defense was down. Blood spilled over Phillip's dark tunic. Another cut, and the tendons in Phillip's left leg could no longer support his weight.

Falling to one knee, the prince continued to hold his sword before him, as if the blade were a talisman against the blinding attacks. The wound on Phillip's forehead dripped blood into his eyes, clouding his vision and turning the world red. Pain seared across his body, the opened wounds burning white-hot. He saw it – so small that it could be overlooked – an opening in his rival's defenses. Knowing that the Princess Aurora's ordeal would soon be over, that his story would have the happy ending that was spoken of in the tales, Phillip lunged forward, driving his blade deep into Xaldin's chest. The lances vanished, the fierce wind dying away to nothing as Phillip cried out his victory.

It died on his lips, ringing emptily across the tower.

Inconceivable. It had to be the work of the black arts themselves. The prince had been sure of the strike; it had flown swift and true. Xaldin had somehow passed through the blade, the weapon falling harmless through him as it dropped from the prince's nerveless fingers. There was no blood, no bellow of pain from the dark man, as steel should have ripped apart flesh. "When one is made of Nothingness, it's easy to pass through anything." The lancer's tone was condescending, but there was no mistaking the memory of anger that burned in his cobalt eyes. Surprise and fear were mixed in equal doses across Phillip's face as Xaldin strode over to the prince. Grabbing Phillip by the throat and pulling him to his feet, III slammed the prince up against the wall, his feet dangling as he met eye to eye with Xaldin. Royal blood dripped onto the floor, the stones stained a deep crimson.

"Not many have been able to do what you have just done," he whispered harshly through clenched teeth. "But your luck ends here, boy. It all ends here for you." Xaldin dropped the choking prince to the floor, leaving Phillip gasping weakly.

"H-how is it-- not possible? Black magic..." Phillip tried to raise himself up, his torn muscles screaming against him as he collapsed backwards into his own blood.

Xaldin gave an amused laugh at Phillip's beleaguered expression, turning his back to the young man. "Hardly that. As I said, you should have chosen your opponent more carefully. You just didn't know when to quit." A new wind kicked up around Xaldin, the arrogant Nobody plucking a single lance from the air. "But now the hero must admit defeat and a new ending to this fairy tale story written."

Devoid of warning, the lancer spun, and in a single fluid motion plunged the lance into the prince's chest. Phillip cried out in agony, the howl reverberating across the walls. It echoed down darkened castle halls, entering into the dreams of enchanted sleepers, creating nightmares seeped in shadows. Xaldin breathed scornfully into the prince's ear as he knelt by him.

"It's better this way. She never knew of you except in dreams, and dreams fade with time." Blood bubbled from the corner of Phillip's mouth, trailing slowly down his chin as he struggled to speak. The effort was too great; there was too much pain. Phillip felt his life slipping away, the last words he heard coming not from his sweet princess, but from a monster in the body of a man. "You never deserved the princess, not someone as pathetic and as weak as you." A gurgle came from the prince's throat, his eyes turning glassy as his head slumped forward against his chest.

The hero was dead as the sun cleared the horizon, bathing the castle grounds in its warm glow.

Viciously ripping the lance from the prince's body, the bloodied weapon returning to the Nothing that it had been summoned from, III turned his back on Phillip with finality. Returning to Aurora and gathering the young woman in his arms, Xaldin opened up a dark corridor. The yawning Darkness beckoned him back to the World That Never Was. Throughout the short battle, the enchanted sleep had kept Aurora shielded from the horror that had been committed. Her head lolled against Xaldin's chest, golden hair contrasting sharply against the dark cloak, ignorant to events. Aurora would never know how close she had come to having the spell lifted, to seeing her prince once more. She would never know of what had happened in the tower chamber unless Xaldin told her; yet another dark deed added to many.

Perhaps the enchantment would fade from this world, one of the main characters needed to complete the tale now gone. Would the spell release the princess immediately, or would the magic fade gradually as Xaldin took her far from her world? It was left to be seen once he stepped through the dark corridor. Holding the Princess of Heart in a grip like iron, Xaldin passed through the tendrils of shadow, the lingering smell of spilt blood on roses reaching him one last time.

* * *

Between the light and dark, traversing a corridor of emptiness lined with stars, Aurora awoke.

It was difficult. The enchantment weighed heavily on her, but she feebly managed to open her eyes. She was moving, but not willingly under her own power. What was happening? She was not in her tower, the stone walls replaced by a myriad of stars that circled endless above her. Was this a dream? Eyelids fluttering, Aurora lifted her gaze. She pulled away, cringing in fear at what she saw. The princess did not find herself in the arms of her love, but a stranger whose indigo eyes stared frighteningly into hers, thick eyebrows heightening the intensity of the gaze. Long braided cords of black hair framed his face, wicked sideburns adding to his terrifying features. He did not smile at her, did not give any suggestion of being welcoming. She tried to move, weakly as a baby would, only to realize belatedly that this strange man was holding her.

Her mind cloudy, Aurora managed to speak. With a voice weak from disuse the words came out in a dry whisper. "Who-- what is happening?" She did not recognize her surroundings, alien and unknown.

A sinister chuckle greeted her ears. "You will see for yourself soon enough, dear princess."

"Who are you?" Aurora's voice began to rise in a panic. She struggled to move. The magic, still strong, began to pull the princess back into her helpless sleep.

"For the moment, simply Nobody you know," came the cryptic reply. Aurora fought to stay awake, but it was like fighting the tide. Where was her true love, the one from her dreams? Her hero as promised by the tales? There was no answer as sleep took her once more.

Xaldin continued on through the gloom, finding that in a part of him divorced from his vanished heart, in memories that belonged to another time, he had begun to enjoy Aurora's suffering.


	3. Chapter 2

A small few voiced belief that the World That Never Was hung on the fringe of darkness and light, 'existing' as it did because it was allowed to. That _Nothing_ was a greater part of S_omething_, and needed in a collective reality that demanded such. An abstract theory, but it held an idealistic vision to it. There were others who assumed that the world's conception was possible because the memories within stolen hearts, of souls and bodies left behind, merged into a collective mix. Gathered into one place, attracted to Nobodies of the same resonance and frequency, these wayward memories formed into the World That Never Was. A new realm for non-existent beings to call their own. A more scientific notion, one with a solid theory to be based on.

There was one voice that really did not give a damn about theories or philosophies, but only complained about the endless rain. It was just his luck, _always_ his luck, to be flung into a world that was unending night when it was not raining. When there was rain, anywhere from a light drizzle to an absolute downpour, it happened as quickly as someone snapping their fingers. No thunder to warn of an approaching storm. Never any flashes of lightning that would caution those to seek shelter. Rain would fill the starry sky. Rolling down from the black heavens accompanied by rumbling thunder and lightning, filling the empty streets and overflowing the gutters, the violent rain looked at if it would wash away the dark world. Xigbar pitied, in a ghostly fashion, the fools that found themselves caught out in one of those storms.

He never thought he would be one of those fools.

Having a torrential downpour soak him from head to heel was not Xigbar's idea of a pleasant walk. His boots squelched with every step, the insides filling up with water, and created a chill that seeped into his body. The glistening pavement reflected the neon lights from the vacant buildings he passed, looking nowhere but straight ahead. Xigbar stalked up the rising landing that led directly to the Castle That Never Was, muttering curses filled with colourful descriptions. The sharpshooter could have warped directly into the Organization's stronghold – an easier option with the castle floating over the rest of the darkened city – but the stubborn streak in him wanted to finish the walk he had begun. From where he first started out right back to the end. It was the _principle_ that mattered.

What Xigbar started he always finished.

A familiar face greeted Xigbar at the landing. Casually leaning against the expansive doorframe, as bone-dry as Xigbar was dripping wet, stood Luxord. A large glass of bourbon in one hand, idly walking a coin across his knuckles in the other, the Gambler of Fate glanced amusingly at the Freeshooter.

"Did you enjoy you walk?"

A look would have been enough, but Xigbar never used body language when words were just as sufficient. Wiping the cold rainwater from his face Xigbar declared, "The weather's forecast for tonight is rain, followed by more rain. Tomorrow we might see a few dry patches," his voice grew harsh as he pulled off his boots and emptied the water from them. "But that'll soon be gone as – you guessed it – more rain arrives! No surprise. Sorry if anyone was gettin' their hopes up for anything else. No outdoor picnic."

Luxord nodded sagely, his clear blue eyes tracking a bolt of lightning across the dark horizon. "An excellent weather forecaster you would be in any other world but this. It's a pity that you already have a job here, Xigbar." He sipped from his bourbon glass, enjoying the simple corporal pleasure in how the warm liquor tracked down the back of his throat.

"And what's that?" Xigbar frowned as he placed his boots back on, finding that they still squelched when he walked. It was going to take _forever_ for them to dry.

"Why, the local cynic. Your presence would be missed if you left us. No one would be able to fill those boots of yours." Maintaining his poker face was difficult; Luxord thought his jab to be rather well placed.

II gave a roll of his good eye, upper lip curling in a false smile. "As if. I can think of a few people who'd like to see me gone." Xigbar wrung gloved hands through his streaked hair, flicking the droplets in the gambler's direction. Laughing at the humour only he could see the gunslinger, now looking less like a drowned rat, scowled at the neophyte. "And what about you? Why're you out here drinking?"

"A break from the castle was greatly needed. A refreshing bit of air gives much health to the body, even more so when it is all that we have left in this world." Luxord jabbed his finger into the air as he declared the last, downing a healthy portion of his liquor in a single gulp.

Xigbar's belief in Luxord's words was empty. More than his repugnance to play games where he did not know the rules, Luxord hated the outdoors. The last mission that he had been assigned had taken him far away, to a world of sand and sun, where bugs were larger than children and human flesh satisfied the appetites of the native flora. Xigbar leaned over to look the gambler in his bloodshot eyes, noting the glassy reflection. From the smell coming off of Luxord, he had been drinking a little more than bourbon, and elsewhere besides the castle's landing.

"Larxene's being a prissy little bitch again, isn't she?"

A pained expression crossing over his face, Luxord confirmed what the one-eyed man guessed. "Whatever had fouled her mood bodes ill for the rest of us men folk. Unless you have a death wish, it would be wisest to avoid that tart as much as possible." He spoke quietly, eyeing Xigbar. "And you. You don't go walking. So what is your purpose for being out here tonight at this ungodly hour, if time matters now?"

The sheet of rainfall turned silver in the castle's refracted light; Xigbar gave a shrug that could have meant anything. "Xaldin was supposed to be comin' back from his mission. You know, the one the Superior sent him on? Jerk's been gone three days now." The rain drummed a steady beat against the pavement, echoing down the vacant streets of the city. "I thought I'd wait around for him. Maybe see if he wanted to do anything afterwards. Got bored waiting and took a walk. This'd," he gestured to his soaked form, "be the result."

Luxord's head tipped forward, in understanding or because of the effects of the alcohol debatable. A flash of lightning lit up the dreary sky in hues of green, followed closely by a peal of thunder, rumbling so closely Xigbar could feel it in his bones. He wondered if the lightning was the work of nature itself or XII giving violence to her mood. The rain intensified, a sheer wall of water that hid the empty city from the sight of the two Nobodies. In the quiet a theatrical sigh caused the gunman to turn. Luxord was leaning heavily up against the wall, standing half out in the rain, oblivious to the fact that he was being drenched. All of his concentration was spent on looking forlornly at his bourbon glass, empty save for a few drops.

Xigbar thought the man was beginning to look like a drunken skunk, smelling just as badly. What had he been drinking?

"I think," the gambler muttered groggily, "that I shall end this evening by returning to my chambers." He staggered away, back down the twisting hall that would lead him into the castle. One hand holding the wall for guidance, Luxord clutched the empty bourbon glass close to his chest. "It may or may not end," his voiced echoing drunkenly off the walls as he vanished around the corner, "with me meeting a porcelain throne."

Xigbar watched the man leave, taking the smell of alcohol with him. Exhaling sharply and crossing his arms, Xigbar wondered where Xaldin could be. It was unlike the Whirlwind Lancer to not conform to a schedule, something that he could control. Xaldin's mission had been easy – the objective had been to collect information that the Superior needed. Not only that, but it was an uncomplicated scouting mission to a world that was in a sleep spell... or something. Xigbar had not been listening to what the lancer had told him before leaving. Ugly thoughts reared their heads, outcomes of what might have made Xaldin late.

Xaldin had been held up.

Xaldin had run into trouble.

Xaldin had been drawn into a fight with the sorceress Maleficent.

Snorting in disbelief at the thoughts, Xigbar continued to wait at the landing. He knew that trouble, as a rule, did not follow Xaldin, and there was not a single instance when the lancer needed help in any past dilemmas. Convincing himself that Xaldin would not appear at the castle bloodied and broken, Xigbar nearly missed the inky shape that was moving in the rainfall, away from the city and toward the Organization's stronghold.

At first the gunslinger assumed it to be one of the many Heartless, mindlessly twitching about with nowhere to go, lacking purpose and being. But what was coming toward Xigbar through the rain moved with intention and reason. Narrowing his yellow eye and peering through the rain, Xigbar waited to catch a better glimpse of the interloper. Summoning one of his guns into his right hand, a quick finger was placed on the trigger. The Freeshooter waited, instinct guiding him.

The unknown stepped onto the landing, quickly walking toward the open entryway. Mentally laughing at the foolish mistake made, Xigbar aimed down the crosshairs of his gun. The sharpshooter would drop the intruder when it came face-to-face with him. Xigbar enjoyed that, having whatever it was that he was hunting to see who was accountable for its death.

The figure came into view, the driving rain parting to allow the gunman to see the features of the trespasser. Just as quickly Xigbar lowered his weapon to his side, scowling in exasperation.

It was Xaldin.

Xigbar saw, half-stunned at the sight, that Xaldin was carrying a young woman in his arms. The man's larger built shielding the girl from the driving rain, she was still just as soaked as III. Crossing over into the entrance way from the brutal storm, Xaldin turned his hooded gaze to Xigbar, gazing pointedly at the gun.

"Were you planning on shooting me, Xigbar? Unarmed?" Xaldin pulled back his hood with his right hand, holding the nameless girl easily in his left. Small rivulets of water trailed down Xaldin's pale face, rainwater from his black cloak pooling onto the floor. The girl's gown, hem trailing and heavy with water, clung to her body, allowing for Xigbar to see every curve on her youthful form. He supposed that his mouth was open, astonishment written across his face. In his own defense, Xigbar could declare that seeing Xaldin, of all Nobodies, arriving on the castle's doorstep carrying a _girl_, would shock any member of the Order.

Perhaps shock was too strong a word for beings that held no emotions, but this was the first time Xigbar had seen his comrade do something that would cause an uproar. Xaldin raised a black eyebrow, waiting for Xigbar to give a response. For the first time in as long as he could recall, Xigbar was unable to give a clever comeback to the situation he found before him.

"You know I wouldn't," he spoke defensively, heatedly. While his answer was directed at Xaldin, his gaze never left the sleeping girl's face. "But you should have damn well hollered out a warning... name... somethin'." He muttered the last, not understand what he was actually saying. There was something about that doll-like face that tickled a memory... Xigbar was sure he had seen this girl before, but her name escaped him.

A condescending sound in his throat, Xaldin started down the corridors toward the Crooked Ascension, leaving Xigbar behind. Rooted to the spot, Xigbar was still unable to believe what he was seeing. Disbelief now dominated the gunman's scarred face, his shock diminishing. If Luxord had ever placed a venture on a situation such as this happening, Xigbar would have bet against X, laughing all the while with the knowledge that he would win.

Senses finally returned to the gunslinger. Slipping away from the landing and the storm raging outside, Xigbar hurried after his friend in the mutely-lit halls. Matching paces with Xaldin's long strides, the two continued down the long passage with the sound of boots against marble ringing ahead and behind them. Her head rested in the crook of Xaldin's arm, the young girl's eyelids fluttered rapidly, thin hands gripping weakly at nothing.

"You sure that sleep is natural?" Xigbar gestured to her movements. "Or did you do something to her?"

Xaldin glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. "I told you that I was sent to a world encased in enchantment. She is simply feeling the side effects of leaving her world and crossing into ours. In a while she'll wake." The girl's tiara, jolted by Xaldin's brisk stride, slipped out of her wet hair. It tumbled to the ground, clinking and rolling away. Still keeping stride, Xigbar bent and snatched the diadem from the floor in a single motion, offering it to Xaldin. The man continued to look ahead and take no notice.

"Seems that at least you picked up something special from your mission. Souvenirs, though this one's a _lot_ different from what the rest of us go for. But hey, she's better on the eyes than Larxene." Xigbar elbowed Xaldin in the ribs while laughing, lewd grin spread over his face. "I knew you had it in you. Though her face does look kind of familiar, even if I can't draw up a name. Can't miss beauty like that, that's a given."

"It is Aurora." Xaldin ascended a flight of steps hurriedly, his wet boots squeaking. His tone was clipped, manner abrupt. "One of the Princesses of Heart that was at Hollow Bastion."

The Crooked Ascension yawning before him, Xaldin pressed a button on the control panel to call the lift down. Connected to every floor within the Organization's castle, it was a safer method of travel for the princess then going through the dark corridor. Darkness wore away at the hearts of those unprepared, and he needed Aurora to be as untouched from the shadows as was possible.

Xigbar snapped his fingers as recollections dawned on him. "So that's where I remember her from. When we were there the first time, watchin' for that kid of a Keyblade Master." The Freeshooter laughed as if he had been told the greatest joke in all the worlds. He laughed as if he could actually feel humour again. Playfully hitting Xaldin on the shoulder and wiping a false tear from his eye, Xigbar gave a _very _knowing grin. "You old dog. So that's what's been keepin' you for the past three days." He clicked his tongue and wagged a finger. "I guess Aurora was worth it enough to bring back, right?"

It was the cold and flinty gaze that Xaldin leveled which made the gunman realize he had overstepped his bounds. Xaldin's humour was distinctly unlike his own, but Xigbar did not expect Xaldin to be prickly over something so meaningless, particularly to Nobodies. "It's not what you assume it to be, Xigbar. I did not bring the princess here for something as primal and base as what you are thinking."

"Heh, sure it isn't. You're just full of good intentions, Xaldin." A note sounded, heralding the arrival of the elevator. Stepping onto the platform, Xaldin blocked the opening. "Why don't you tell me then, the friend that puts up with everything you do?" Xigbar tried to maneuver himself onto the lift, found that he was unable to with Xaldin forcing him back, and gave up trying to follow.

"You would not understand if I explained it to you." There was finality behind those words, haughtily spoken.

Xigbar spread his arms, making a face. "Oh, c'mon!" He was wheedling, something that the gunman never did. "Why not?"

Xaldin refused to answer as the elevator ascended, taking him and Aurora away from the one-eyed Nobody. A rude hand gesture raised in salute to Xaldin's departure, Xigbar found he was glowering with the fact that he was not being told a thing. II would have followed and continue to hassle Xaldin, save for one important thing. Until Xaldin reported to the Superior, Xigbar was the sole Nobody who knew of the newest arrival in the castle. An opportunity to gloat over something to the others rarely happened. A group as closely tied together as Organization XIII held no secrets, more than ever when a Princess of Heart was involved.

Xigbar had forgotten that he held Aurora's tiara. Pocketing it, assured that he would be believed with physical proof, Xigbar promised to return it when Aurora was conscious. Rubbing his gloved hands together, a memory of impish delight stirring, Xigbar wondered what the response would be. He ever forgot that his boots squelched when he walked.

* * *

She made erratic noises, sounds of someone lost and unable to find their way in the Darkness. Perhaps Aurora was in the middle of a nightmare or hellish memories floated through her subconscious mind. _How sad,_ Xaldin mused, _that she has no hero to save her even in her own mind._

Their arrival upon the world was as silent as the streets; Aurora had not awakened since that first fitful journey between worlds. Xaldin thought the pouring rain would have stirred her from sleep, but the magic's grip had yet to fade, even so far from her home. Not even Xigbar's strident voice had been able to stir her. Securely placed in Xaldin's apartments, no trouble would happen until after III had given his report to the Superior. The last thing Xaldin wanted was interference from the rest of the Order. His intended plans with Aurora did not allow outside manipulation, and never would.

The lancer placed Aurora down on his bed, not unkindly. She whimpered, rolling onto her side and curling into a fetal position. There was something so utterly wretched in that movement that spoke of needed security; it brought a smirk to his cruel face. Skin clammy from the rain and still clothed in her wet gown, Aurora shivered fitfully. Xaldin covered the girl with a heavy blanket and waited for her trembling to subside. It would not do to have her ill, not when there was still so much that had yet to be done.

Brushing a wet strand of hair back from Aurora's face, Xaldin contemplated his next move.

The Superior's view was not easy to sway. Xemnas, when fixated on a particular design or intrigue, held to his course regardless of the consequences. Assured that Xemnas would see the good judgment that he had exhibited in acquiring Aurora as a hostage, Xaldin could only hope that the leader would not take her from him.

Leaving his bedchamber in the quiet darkness, Xaldin locked the door behind him. It mattered little to him if the princess woke while he was gone – a pity that he would miss her confusion and terror – but he did not want her prying into places that were not meant for her. Belatedly, the man realized that he would have to create more space within his apartments. The castle itself was self-replicating; all that was needed was a bit of time and patience to mould the chambers to whatever was desired. He only hoped to find the time _soon_. Xaldin snapped his fingers in the antechamber, a silent bidding to the Nothing. Appearing before its master with the same stillness in which it had been summoned, the Dragoon Nobody turned its graceful head toward the bedroom, sensing the new presence behind the wood. Drawing up its cruel barbed lance in a semblance of a soldier standing to attention, the Dragoon waited for commands.

"There is business that I have to attend to. Make sure," Xaldin pointed to his chamber, "that she remains undisturbed. If anyone enters, you may do what you will to them."

_I understand and obey_. The Dragoon responded telepathically, nodding its head in acquiescence. Secure in the knowledge that nothing would occur, Xaldin opened a portal of Darkness, reaching out to where Xemnas resided. Much like a dance, this mission debriefing would require skill. The Whirlwind Lancer walked into the dark gateway with confidence. Fortunately, Xaldin was as accomplished as the best performers were.

* * *

The lounge was one of the places within the castle where the Nobodies congregated. A spacious room, colourless as any of the others within the stronghold, it held bits of furniture that clashed with each other. Three sofas faced one another, each a small mark to the personality of the Nobody that had chosen it. A black pin-stripped settee with gold trimming sat opposite of the brown leather recliner, which in turn was at odds with the colourful blue divan. The only piece that was completely in opposition with the sofas was the vivid red beanbag, tossed haphazardly on the floor. In the centre of the sofa ring a glass coffee table sat, a candy dish filled with empty wrappers on top. Potted plants of unknown origins held lavender flowers in bloom around the room. Across the way a small kitchenette, the only décor in the lounge that meshed with the room itself, was built into the wall. Spacious windows ran along the length of the far wall, streaked with rain, allowed a view over the empty city if anyone wanted to look.

The lounge had been created based wholly on the fact that dwellings always held a gathering place. It was not for the reason that any of the Nobodies were sociable creatures. Quite the opposite; all had their eccentricities and were seldom cordial with the others. But sometimes there would be a need, a flicker in each of them, to be surrounded by others like themselves. Whether it was to talk or not, to have a passing interest in what the others were making of their time or otherwise, it was the communal sense of belonging that brought the Nobodies to this room. When Xigbar announced his presence, dramatically appearing upside-down in midair above the coffee table, the quiet hum of conversation died away as detached, blank eyes turned toward the sharpshooter.

Larxene and Marluxia, standing together at the coffee machine, gave only a passing glance to the gunslinger before returning to their java. Lexaeus, sitting in the recliner, was too deep in thought to notice Xigbar's entrance, pondering his next move on the chessboard before him. Or perhaps having known the man for so long, the giant had become immune to his antics. With his back straight on the settee, Zexion coolly regarded Xigbar's near-maniacal grin as the Freeshooter dropped down onto the sofa.

"You guys aren't going to believe this even when I tell you. C'mon, guess what it is." Xigbar glanced between Lexaeus and Zexion, waiting to see who would rise to the bait.

"And what might that be?" Zexion calmly watched Lexaeus move a white pawn toward his black knight. "That you'll finally stop talking with all that slang you pick up off world?" He countered the giant's move, claiming an undefended bishop with his rook.

"Nah, you know I won't, and that I do it to piss you off. Care to guess what I'm talkin' about?" Xigbar directed the question to Lexaeus, propping his feet up on the table, nearly missing the chessboard and the pieces.

Lexaeus folded thick arms over his barrel-like chest, turning his blue eyes to Xigbar. "You know I can't read minds. None of us are able to."

Rolling his eye in annoyance, having the fun being taken from him by his two closest associates, Xigbar craned his neck to look over at the coffee-starved neophytes. "Do you two want to get in on the guessing game?"

"You would be better off asking Luxord," Marluxia sipped carefully from his mug, coloured soft pink with green vines painted along the rim. "He would give you the odds if you told him the rules to whatever you're going on about."

"I would ask him pretty boy, except that he's nursing a large hangover at the moment. Most likely sprawled out in front of his toilet bowl, too."

Larxene tittered. "Such a pity. The man doesn't know how to hold his own alcohol." Downing the remains in her cup the young woman smiled at Xigbar. There was nothing warming in the false gesture. "I'll take a guess. You're going to cook and clean for each of us for the next week straight and we won't have to bother with the chore wheel anymore." Her prissy voice carried easily across the lounge. Xigbar was not sure if it was her tone or the words she used that made him wince.

"As if! The chore wheel is there for a reason, and even you bringing it up at every week's meeting, no one's going to get rid of it." He pointed a purposeful finger at XII. "Try again."

"I don't want to guess. Just tell me and I promise not to break your coffee mug." Larxene gave the sweetest face as she spoke those words with a cool tone, taking the mug out of the cupboard to show the intent behind her threat.

Xigbar slapped the palms of his hands on the armrests, uttering a swear word. "You guys take the fun out of everything. Here, can you guess what this comes from at least?" He pulled out the tiara. Raising it above his head Xigbar made sure that all four pairs of eyes saw the object. The jewels set into the golden crown winked in the light.

In a deadpan voice, Zexion answered the awful question. "From someone's head."

Groaning in exaggerated patience, Xigbar gave an unenthusiastic sound. "You'd be wrong. Maybe I should go and get Luxord; he'd win this game better than any of you guys."

"A crown, so royalty." Lexaeus pressed his lips together in thought, moving the queen across the chessboard. "From a world you visited? Braig never had a problem with thievery, but it looks like you might."

Xigbar ignored the off-handed remark of his Other. If it had been one of the neophytes to bring up such a delicate subject, heads would have rolled. Lexaeus was one of the privileged few who could say what he wished without having a return punch to the face. "You're only half-right. Any other takers?"

No one bothered answering. Zexion returned his attention to the chessboard, placing his king one tile back from Lexaeus' advance. Scheming over his next move, he brushed a hand through his grey hair and waited. The giant folded his hands under his chin, mulling with the patience of a boulder. Marluxia absent-mindedly looked out the window while stirring his coffee, Larxene flipping through the pages of a magazine. His scar twisting from the frown given, Xigbar shrugged.

"Alright then, I'll just tell you all. It's unfair to not notify you brats because you'll never find out until you're told and comin' from Xaldin, that'll be never." Placing the tiara carefully on the table, Xigbar raised his voice to make sure that even Marluxia, off in his own world, would hear. "We've got a princess in the castle."

"A princess?!" Heads turned in confusion upon hearing the near-shriek that came from Larxene.

XII stood up quickly enough that her stool had crashed to the floor, coffee mug knocked over and ruining her magazine. The heels of her boots clicking swiftly against the polished floor, Larxene made her way over to Xigbar. If any of the Nobodies could have truly felt the emotions that they parodied, then Larxene's body language would have expressed an uncontained glee. It was almost akin to childlike wonder.

Picking up the tiara, admiring the delicate scrollwork along the edges, Larxene placed it on her head. "It's mine now. So," she gave a coy and all-too friendly smile at Xigbar, the savage girl now his greatest companion. "Do tell us about this princess. I am all ears."

* * *

Xemnas was where Xaldin expected to find him, standing atop the Altar of Naught, arms raised toward Kingdom Hearts in silent worship. There were times, increasingly frequent, where the Superior would simply stand and watch the heart-shaped moon in its growth. Hours would go by before he would notice the passage of time. Often Xemnas had to be called back to the present, away from wherever his thoughts brought him. The strangely shaped moon cast the only 'light' within this dark realm with its pale glow. Xaldin inclined his head in a form of respect as the Superior turned to face him.

"You have returned," Xemnas' melodious voice spoke the obvious. "I take it there were no incidents?"

"The world still slept as it did before the Darkness took it." Xaldin folded his arms behind his back. "And not a trace of the sorceress to be found. For the moment there should be no problems to your plans, Xemnas. However," he smiled, making the first move in his dance, "I made a slight amend to your plans, toward the Organization's advantage when Maleficent does show herself."

"Oh?" Xemnas laced his fingers together. Some alterations held positive effects; in Xemnas' experience those were rare, the universe seldom offering. "And just what are these changes that you felt were necessary, Number III?"

Careful now, another step made. "I have returned with Aurora, one of the Princesses of Heart. As she was so crucial to Maleficent's plans last time to acquire Kingdom Hearts, she might very well be so again. She can be used as a bartering chip against that inept sorceress if the woman comes to this world. I took the liberty of," the dark lancer chose the next words with a smile, "securing her from the interventions of others."

A silver eyebrow was raised, in disbelief or admiration it was always difficult to say with Xemnas. "So there was an incident."

Xaldin laughed; even as it was false he felt it more unnatural than it should have been. A footstep back. "There was a brief problem, but easily dealt with. It won't affect us in any way."

The Superior's cat-like eyes regarded Xaldin critically, burnished gold to an ominous violet. Beginning to pace across the expansive altar, he absently brushed his thumb over his lower lip, calculating on how the acquisition of a Princess of Heart would twist and turn his own plans. A habit that was not Xemnas'; just a shadow of Xehanort's. He smiled then, a feral-like grin showing perfect white teeth. "This is intriguing. And where is the princess at this moment?"

"Safely held. She is still under the enchantment and has yet to waken." Another step, this time to the side, gracefully executed.

Meditating, Xemnas supplied his own thoughts. "She knows absolutely naught of what happened when you abducted her, and is oblivious to the nature of this world."

"And it should be kept that way," Xaldin quickly added. "Kept naïve, Aurora will be easier to control. Beside yourself Xemnas, I am the only other who knows that she was taken." A bend of the knee, a curl to the wrist. "A story can be spun effortlessly; her world slipped back into the Darkness, and she was fortunate enough to be saved when I was traveling past. The fewer who know the truth of the tale, the better it is for those that do."

Xemnas nodded, enjoying the lie's fabrication. "Brought here for her protection, we the Order are concerned for her future. It can even be said that she was saved from Maleficent. Aurora would be oblivious to the fact that she is a hostage." He gave a sideways glance to the whitish moon, a sweeping gaze as Xemnas looked further beyond it. "Will you tell Aurora of what we are?"

Giving the barest of smiles, Xaldin shook his head. This dance had ended. "I see no point in it. The others should be told as well. The fewer problems--"

A voice cut into Xaldin's words, high in pitch and with an abrupt manner. "Have what I've heard true? That there is a new arrival in the castle of considerable interest?" Striding up the altar's steps, Vexen nodded at the conversing Nobodies. His black cloak draping over his lean built, dirt blonde hair framing a face just as thin, Vexen acted as if he had been summoned and not rudely interrupting a debriefing. It was just like the academic to involve himself in business that was not his own. Vexen pursed his lips, openly ignoring the dangerous gaze that was being given to his presence by Xaldin. "The word within the castle is that you've brought someone back with you, Xaldin. A Princess of Heart?"

Returning the scholar's artificial smile, his own laced with poison, Xaldin inwardly cursed. Here was the prying he had been hoping to avoid, though not expecting it as soon as this. "Perhaps. Where did you hear this from, Vexen?"

"Oh, a little bird told me," he replied off-handedly. Keen interest shone in his icy green eyes, Vexen's lie apparent and weak. "It was incentive enough for me to take a few moments from my work to see if there was any truth to these words."

_No doubt this 'little bird' has a missing eye, and might soon loose the other one, too. _Xaldin should not have trusted the gunman to stay silent. He should have threatened him; not that intimidation meant much to Xigbar, who could take a warning in good stride and coax someone to follow through. "There is truth to what the bird said, but what would you care?" Xaldin took a step toward IV menacingly. He would have no meddling in his affairs. There would be nointerference.

Vexen raised gloved hands. "I am curious, nothing more." He hastily backed up all the same, putting distance between himself and the lancer.

"Your curiosity has always tied in with your need to understand," Xemnas moved between the two, avoiding an incident before it had a chance to start. His golden eyes cautioned Xaldin and warning the icy scientist to carefully choose his next words. "What do you want, Vexen?"

Vexen cleared his throat before speaking of his proposal. "A simple experiment, nothing more. There are many theories of the Heartless and the Darkness they inhabit; this maiden could allow my research to branch into a completely new direction." Something lit up in the scientist's eyes as he spoke, something that Xaldin remembered. He knew that look. "After all, the Princesses were said to have the purest of hearts, Darkness having no power over them. If I were to--"

"No such thing will be granted to you." Xemnas' words cut quickly across the altar top. Vexen flinched. The Superior crossed his arms. "Princess Aurora is a hostage. A valuable pawn to be used against Maleficent if it is needed for the Organization. Hostages lose their value if they have been... tampered with."

Vexen moved to salvage the damage that had been made. "There will be no injuries Xemnas, I promise. Few tests will be needed. They are simple, quick. Effective. For science and for a better understanding of our own existence, of the Darkness, you must allow me this chance." Vexen's frozen demeanor was beginning to fracture, frantic babbling falling on deaf ears. Xaldin could imagine hearing the ice snap. Growing flustered at being denied his request, the scientist raised opened hands, palms upwards, silently pleading.

Xaldin shook his head, a disparaging curl to his lips. "What about those other experiments," Xaldin chided him quietly. He ignored the warning look from Xemnas. "Those ones that needed to be disposed of?"

Vexen turned an ugly frown to the lancer, the skin stretching tight, twisting his face into a repugnant mask. "Failures, nothing more. I won't fail if," he turned back to Xemnas, "if you will allow me this chance. Xemnas, a Princess of Heart is something that could be of such use to the Order."

"Yes, she is," Xemnas agreed, yielding to the scholar's point. Vexen shot Xaldin a look of triumph; the sinister man was ready to choke the Chilly Academic and Xemnas both. "But," the Superior continued. "This will have to pass. There will be no experimentation done to the princess. She is too useful to us. If I see you trying anything Vexen, then believe that you will be dealt with accordingly."

Xaldin turned a gratifying smile to the scholar, one that he knew would antagonize Vexen. Spluttering incoherently with his gloved hands balled into fists, the man glared daggers at Xaldin. Dilan and Even had never seen eye-to-eye; why should Xaldin and Vexen have be any different from their Others in that respect? A last order came from the Superior as he stepped away from the sparring Nobodies.

"Xaldin, since it was you who brought Aurora to our world, you shall be given charge to her safekeeping. A hostage is worth far less if damaged, and we do not wish our guest to have any injuries. The details are unimportant on how you wish to deal with her," and Xemnas' golden eyes slid mindfully over to Vexen, standing mutely with crossed arms. "Do ensure that she does not become a test subject. I will inform the rest of the Order to the circumstances that surround our new guest, so you do not have to worry about any more impositions. Xaldin, see to the princess."

Xemnas turned his back, effectively dismissing them. His eyes had already returned to Kingdom Hearts, the faithful worshipper once again.

As he swept past Vexen, Xaldin lowered his voice so only the icy Nobody could hear. "Do not get in my way, Vexen. You won't welcome what I could make happen to you." Striding confidently down the altar steps, Xaldin chose to ignore the feeling of Vexen's eyes following him, murderous intent evident. He had succeeded in his goal and not even Vexen's petty attempt at coercion could dampen the dead sensation of personal triumph.


	4. Chapter 3

The enchantment lost its power in the World That Never Was. It lifted gently from the princess; breath quickened, flesh warmed, eyelids fluttered. Before Aurora opened her eyes, the young princess knew that something was off.

It was the scent of the chamber – not of roses that bloomed in the night, but the tang of spice mixed with musk – that flooded her consciousness. The bed she lay on did not feel the same as in her tower chamber; the sheets were cotton, not brocaded silk. Even the air in the room felt stilted. Hands curled around the blanket that someone had placed over her. Lilac eyes opening to confront the reality before her, Aurora found that she was not in her tower chamber.

The dream-like memory overcame her, stars circling overhead as she was carried through the sky in the arms of a strange man. His face was cruel, voice a rumbling menace to hear. Panic rose in her chest at the recollection. Aurora drew the thick blanket about her trembling form as if it were a shield to fend off the memory. She glanced down to find her dress wet, clinging to her cold skin and her hair damp. From the sound of the heavy deluge against the windowpanes, Aurora could only imagine that she had been carried through the downpour to this chamber.

Gazing out the window, patterned thickly with raindrops, the young woman did not recognize the world through the glass. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the storm coming and going in the same moment. Aurora curled into herself and wished for everything to vanish. This was not how it was suppose to be. She was meant to be in her tower waiting for her true love; it had been assured when she had left Hollow Bastion with the other Princesses of Heart. She had wanted to see her aunts, to listen to aunt Merryweather's scolding words, to be comforted by aunt Fauna's warm arms wrapped safely about her, and have aunt Flora fuss over her. Aurora wanted to be somewhere that held the feeling of home to it, not to wake again on a strange world where she knew nothing.

It was not fair; Aurora cried to herself, it was not fair!

Alice had said those same words, stomping her foot in anger. Jasmine had soothed the young child with the understanding that every tale came to an end no matter how dark the unfolding story was. No one in the group could change what had happened to them and they all had to wait until an ending was written for them. Aurora had looked at the dusky-skinned princess with admiration, wishing that she possessed the same resolve and spirit.

Now Jasmine's words echoed in Aurora's mind. Aurora relaxed her death grip on the blanket. Her story was still being written… but an ending would appear. There was always an ending. The maiden began to calm herself with those thoughts. She would have to wait. The image of her hero came to her. He would be as the stories constantly said. Clad in silver armour with both truth and justice at his side, no obstacle could stand against him. Surely he was already gallantly racing to Aurora's rescue, having heard the princess' tragic tale recounted from a passing minstrel.

Aurora could wait. Her unnamed champion would come and save her.

Pulling the heavy cover around herself, Aurora awkwardly slid off the bed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes the young maiden scrutinized the room that she had woken in. It was large, if sparely furnished. The walls were a deep indigo, but the colour did nothing to soothe her. It made Aurora feel trapped. Against the far wall a large wardrobe stood, the dark wood heavily carved. Curiosity filled her – aunt Flora spoke that it always killed the cat, never hearing Merryweather mutter the end of the saying – and she tried to open the mirror-paneled doors. The lock refused to budge. Giving up, Aurora instead looked at her reflection. A flimsy image of her former self returned gazed back, tired lines etched under her eyes, fear mixing with anxiety across her face. Her dress was unfit for royalty to be found in, with muddy stains over the hem line marred the purity of her gown.

She turned and found with a gasp of dismay that her tiara was missing.

Aurora bit her lower lip as a mixture of grief and anger took her; misery if she had lost the present from her aunts, frustration if someone had stolen it. Sure of the fact that it had been stolen Aurora was determined to reclaim what was rightfully hers. She refused to be kept in the chamber any longer. In a huff unfitting of her royal bearing, Aurora strode over the carpeted floor to the door. She stopped when she found the door locked and that no amount of strength or effort would open it. Sooner or later when she did leave this chamber, the girl promised herself, she would find who took her crown.

Another door stood open to her right, leading into a bathing chamber. It offered no escape from the room she had been placed in. Pacing back to the large windows, bare feet tingling as warmth returned to them, Aurora stared bleakly out into the dark world. Through the rain-streaked glass she could make out the watery impressions of castle turrets and battlements; beyond the high walls lights winked in the distance from some great city.

Her true love was coming. Aurora kept the thought in her mind, holding to it carefully. He would charge heroically into this strange world, take her from the hands of her captors and set her free. They would return to her world, be married, and live happily ever.

The bolt on the door clicked. Aurora turned her gaze from the windows and looked at the opening door. Heart thudding, fear flooded her. The young woman hadn't expected her captor to return so soon. Shrinking away as the same man walked into the bedroom – his bedroom it had to be – Aurora darted back onto the bed, wrapping the thick blanket around her, once again using it as a shield. Frightful as he had been to her when she had been half asleep, he was more chilling to look upon now that Aurora was awake.

He was taller than any man she had seen, the black cloak he wore further accentuating his strong built and pale skin. The ebony-haired man carried a tray of food with him, the mouth-watering aroma drifting toward her. Aurora's stomach growled. How selfless that food had been brought to her...

_No! This man kidnapped me. He doesn't deserve even a shred of consideration. I will not talk to him; I will not speak to him! _

Aurora followed the man's movements, watching as he put the covered tray down in front of her before sitting himself on the edge of the bed. He waited, cobalt eyes watching for her next move. Refusing to fidget under the stranger's gaze, Aurora took notice that his ears were pointed like an elf's, curved toward the end. She had never seen any man, besides the gypsies from her youth, with pierced ears either. When the man spoke, his voice was deeper than expected, carrying a refined lilt to it.

"For someone that has slept the better portion of a day away, are you certain you aren't hungry?" Xaldin motioned to the food. Her stomach growled again, louder and more firm this time, wanting the meal. Aurora thought she detected the smell of roasted chicken and… _No! _She drew the duvet tighter to her, not moving from where she sat. Her aunts' warnings of never trusting strangers rang in her mind. Aurora made sure to keep as much distance as she could between herself and this sinister man. Intuition told her deep down that she was right in doing so, there was something about him that could not be trusted. Instead of answering his question, the princess pointedly looked at the wall. She would not be drawn into conversation.

"Did the enchantment rob you of your voice as well?"

Aurora frowned, annoyance colouring her cheeks. "No." Quick regret followed the word; he had made her talk too easily.

"Why do you choose to remain silent?"

She made her voice as cold and haughty as possible. Aurora was finding it difficult to be rude to her abductor, who was not acting in the manner the fairy tales wrote them. Food was never given to the captive, and threats issued instead of polite conversation. "My aunts have told me to never talk to strangers, and we've not been properly introduced."

With a liquid grace he rose, bowing. "My name is Xaldin, Your Highness." A smile hinted over his lips, but it only made the girl cringe. It seemed forced.

Aurora nodded, still uncertain to give hers. Good manners won in the end. "Princess Aurora." She was uncomfortable using the royal title, unuse to it. The next question was obvious; Xaldin sat and waited for Aurora to voice it, all the while watching her. "Sir Xaldin--"

"Xaldin," he promptly corrected her.

"I'm sorry." Why did she apologize? It was no fault of hers if she was unsure of his title. The conversation hung, Xaldin waiting for her to continue. Deciding that this could be the only chance she had to ask questions, Aurora hesitantly voiced them. "Where am I? The Keyblade Master restored order to the worlds and I went home..."

Xaldin gave a concerned expression. "It is unfortunate, dear princess, but your world fell back into Darkness. Maleficent brought it back with her. The Keyblade bearer never locked your world, did he?" Aurora shook her head, a sinking feeling entering her stomach. Sora had never thought to visit her world and guarantee the safety to her people. Xaldin noted Aurora's blanching face. "I thought as much," he continued. "Maleficent tried to kidnap you again. I saved you from her clutches while I was journeying from your world to another."

Aurora's eyes flashed. The obvious lie Xaldin spoke, how dare he think her stupid. "Maleficent is dead! The Keyblade Master killed her in Hollow Bastion."

"Those who serve the Darkness do not stay dead for long." He spoke quietly, with the confidence that he knew far more of the topic and did not expect to be countered.

"I do not believe you." How dare he assume that she was naïve and unknowing of events that she had been present at. "Your lies are easy to see, Xaldin. You didn't save me, you kidnapped me. You, you're tainted with the same Darkness that Maleficent was." Aurora was unsure what prompted her to say the last. "Why? What do you hope to gain from this, from keeping me here?"

Xaldin's eyes narrowed, lips twisting into a frown. "If you choose to believe that I am lying, then you will find yourself to be wrong. I and the others here are only concerned for your wellbeing. You wouldn't wish for the sorceress to murder you while you slept, would you?"

A dry laugh came from Aurora. "I know you are lying. Those are just pretty words to hide the fact that I am a hostage here. Maleficent is gone."

"Believe what you wish, princess, but here you are and far from home. Think now, if you were a hostage you would have woken in the dungeons. You are an honoured guest."

"My true love will come for me." Spoken with insolence the princess found herself smiling. Aurora remembered Jasmine's resolve, the young woman's spirit, and drew on that memory for strength.

It was sickening in how she hoped. The weak emotion, memories of it, brought a sneer to the dark man's lips. "Are you so sure? I could not help but notice that he did not arrive to save you when you had first been captured. What makes you so hopeful now that he knows where you are, or if he cares? Considering how thoughtful your hero has been in the past, what allows you to believe in the future?"

Aurora refused to answer, closing her eyes and ignoring Xaldin's callous words. "He will come."

Xaldin lifted the lid from Aurora's meal. "I would not be surprised if he never comes. Do not bother wishing for the impossible, princess. Now eat. Your food is growing cold."

Every question asked had brought the princess nothing, but Aurora tried one more time.

"What about quarters of my own? I don't need anything grand, just something simple… I wouldn't wish to take your room from you." Discreetly, Aurora looked into Xaldin's eyes. The words came out haltingly as she tried to maintain her gaze, fear beginning to grow again. There had been more emotion in Maleficent sickly eyes when Aurora had dared to look at the sorceress.

"The matter is being dealt with. Before the day is out I will take you to them."

Confusion passed over Aurora. She looked outside to the dark landscape half-hidden in the rain. "But I thought it--"

Xaldin's laugh was patronizing. "This world does not have a sun, Princess Aurora. Here you will have to learn a new order of time. You will become accustomed to it."

Those were the last words he spoke to Aurora. She was thankful when Xaldin rose to leave. Giving a courteous bow the man left her to her own devices. Aurora heard the lock clack in the door, deafening quiet following. _An honoured guest,_ she bitterly thought. Aurora ate little, her appetite not as big as she had thought. Pushing the food aside and bundling under the blanket, Aurora concentrated on warming her feet. Her slippers had been lost on the journey from her tower to this world.

The impressions she held of Xaldin were unkind. The advice from her aunts flickered through her mind. Trust not a word he says, that would be aunt Merryweather's warning. No good ever came from liars and strangers, Flora would add. Aunt Fauna would only brush Aurora's hair back and tell her niece to be careful. Until her champion released her from this dismal prison, Aurora would not listen to what Xaldin said. It would be the only thing, beyond the hope in waiting for her hero, which she would hold fast to.

A small wave of sickness rolled over in her stomach. What Aurora would give to once again be in Hollow Bastion with the Heartless. There she had been able to move about freely, there she could wait for a happier ending, there the Keyblade Master had brought hope. Aurora curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. Drawing into herself, leaving behind the gloomy atmosphere, Aurora dreamed of her knight. How his voice was as gentle and calming as the spring breeze. He would be handsome – all champions in the fairy tales were striking. The happy ending Aurora fantasized about, deserved, crumbled like spun glass when the door opened.

Xaldin returned, and speaking Aurora's name, told her to follow him. Nausea swept through Aurora. Breathing deeply, the princess reminded herself that she would stay strong. She would not show fear even as her knees quivered when she walked. Squeezing herself against the doorframe to slide past Xaldin, Aurora was freed from the chamber that had been her temporary cell. Sharply contrasting the darkened room Aurora had left, the hallway was well-lit. Aurora paused to look closer at one of the lights, how they burned without the aid of a candle. Xaldin waited.

"If we will continue? You can look at it on another occasion, or view the ones that are in your own chamber." There was no reproach in his voice, face expressionless.

Aurora dropped her hand – strange that the light gave off no heat – looking humiliated. "Yes."

Her interest in the cold lights dampened, she trailed after Xaldin. Her eyes rested on a set of double-doors when they passed; slightly ajar the princess looked in. Xaldin stopped and turned to face Aurora. "My library," he explained, pushing one of the doors further inwards for her to see. "You are allowed to use it, if you wish." No trace of hospitality seeped into his voice.

Xaldin stood closer than Aurora liked. She pulled back, nearly tripping over the hem of her gown. "Thank you," she murmured in return, more from habit than truly meaning the words.

Keeping his voice low, Xaldin continued walking. "If there is nothing else your eyes wish to pry at, Princess Aurora, I will show you your rooms. They, and everything within, are yours for the duration of your time that you will spend here." The dark man opened the door as he uttered the final word. With hesitation in every step Aurora crossed over the threshold. She clutched the duvet around her shoulders, refusing to let it go, still her shield. Aurora's eyes took in her chamber that Xaldin had arranged for her.

They were apartments fit for someone of royal status, not for a girl that had lived a peasant's life. The walls were cast a lilac hue, almost consoling. Aurora's bare feet, use to walking across hardwood floors and over forest paths, tickled at the carpet's touch. A full-length mirror sat to her right, the frame an elaborate work of gold. Aurora's image hadn't changed from when she had first seen her reflection; only fright had traded the weariness. Against the far wall a canopied bed sat, the rich cloth heavily embroidered. An alcove lay close by, windows offering Aurora a view into the rainy night.

The extravagance unnerved her. She had never slept in anything besides cotton sheets in the summer months and scratchy wool during wintertime, but now satin? Quietly expelling a breath, Aurora focused her thoughts. She would be strong. Aurora wanted to remain brave for when her hero came. Recalling Jasmine, how the girl's determination had seen them all though Hollow Bastion, Aurora swore to not give into the fright she felt to Xaldin.

Watching her every move, Xaldin studied Aurora's reactions as she wandered the room. More than once she paused to examine a feature that was unusual to her, wavering in the decision to lay a hand on it or leave it aside. Aurora's appearance spoke of being overwhelmed.

"I will need clothing," Aurora softly announced, gesturing first to the empty wardrobe and then to her ruined gown. Lifting the hem of her dress to reveal her bare feet, she continued. "And slippers. It is cold in this place."

Shutting the wardrobe's door, Xaldin gave her the barest of smiles. "You must remember that these chambers were prepared in scant hours, princess. It will take some time until suitable wear is found for you."

"I cannot go around wearing my gown that has been tracked through mud and in need of a wash. Shouldn't a guest, a royal guest, be treated better than this?" She was nothing more than a glorified prisoner, a captive without bars to her cage. Not that having clothes would matter, her true love would find his way to her. Aurora would leave everything behind without a thought. A hand caressed the necklace around her throat, prompting the young woman's next thought.

"Where's my crown? If you have taken it from me, I would like it back. It was a gift from people who are dear to me."

The charming smile lay at odds with the annoyance Xaldin's body portrayed. "If you think I would be petty enough to steal away your tiara, princess, you judge me poorly. If it's that important to you it will be found." Knowing the Freeshooter had it last, Xaldin rolled his eyes at the thought of getting the tiara back. "Allow for time to have your rooms further arranged, princess. Why wear peasant cloth when you can be offered silk?"

Aurora looked away from her captor – _Yes,_ _I will call him that _– andtook a seat at the alcove. Looking beyond the watery panes of glass Aurora wanted nothing more than to be left alone. "I can deal with simple clothing, Xaldin." Straightening her back, Aurora concentrated on the lights of the distant city.

Xaldin stared after her, following her line of sight that looked past the rain and the silent metropolis. "Tell me, do you see him yet? This hero of yours, charging through the city streets on his noble steed?" His deep voice carried an edge to it.

The maiden's face strained and skin pale, Aurora's red lips tightened. Although Xaldin stood on the opposite side of her bedchamber, there was an intimate manner in his voice that alarmed her, making Aurora feel he had whispered the words into her ear. "Of course not." Drawing a lock of golden hair over her shoulder, Aurora glanced away shamefully. "Please leave."

He went along to her demand, parting words before he closed the door. "Tell me the moment your hero arrives so he can be received properly."

* * *

Aurora recounted time by how she slept. Unused to waking in darkness, rising from her bed to the sound of rain or the echo of silence, the young woman kept wishing for a sunrise. Her dread of this strange world refused to fade; Aurora stayed in her rooms and left only to take her meals with Xaldin. The princess turned down the man's offer to read anything in his library that caught her interest. Beyond giving her sincere thanks when clothes were brought to her, Aurora occupied herself with her thoughts.

By the third day the young woman knew that she would not be content with that. Sitting with her forehead pressed up against the window, eyes' watching for movement in the city was nothing short of maddening. Hollow Bastion had kept her busy, making sure that the Door to Darkness would not leech its poison into the world. Aurora's enchanted sleep had been kinder, not allowing her to dream or to feel the affects of time. Awake and with no purpose, the need to be in control of some part of her situation made Aurora think of her options.

The idea of escape presented itself to the girl when sitting in the alcove of her room. A break out would be much easier with a safe path known to herself and her knight. Aurora would be able to guide them from the castle without becoming involved in a battle; to elude capture. As much as the idea thrilled Aurora, she was under no belief that she could leave the apartments when she wished. Timidly she had brought up the question early, over a meal with Xaldin, only to have the conversation taken from her.

"There's no reason not for you to leave. But," and that word hung like a weight in the air, "only when I am with you."

Her throat constricted at Xaldin's terms. "Why must it be with you? If I am a guest here, and my interests are being looked after, I have no use for a chaperone."

Xaldin's piercing eyes met Aurora's, his voice condescending. "Not all are sympathetic to your plight here, even if you are a guest. Some might do you more harm than good." From the beginning Xaldin had thought Aurora to not remain content where she was. Escape attempts were a possibility, though Xaldin sorely doubted the girl's ability to leave. She would have too much freedom by herself.

"But you said all were sympathetic to my plight--"

"I have been charged with your care, dear princess, and don't wish anything untoward happen to you."

Aurora did not know if she should believe Xaldin or not, but she mutely nodded and returned to her meal.

Between leaving her room and quietly walking toward the library, Aurora wondered if the other Princesses of Heart would have done the same. How she wished for one of them to be here, Snow White even. Despite the hours Xaldin kept, Aurora knew that in his own time the brooding man occupied himself in his library. She had never seen him come and go, but she heard Xaldin's heavy footsteps whenever he passed her door.

Warm light spilled out into the hall. Aurora opened the door with care, not wanting to disturb Xaldin if he was in the middle of something important. Finding him reading, the most normal of acts, he still managed to be intimidating. The air hovered around Xaldin, worn almost like a second skin. Knocking on the door of the library, but not entering, Aurora collected her courage and spoke.

"I would like to see the castle, Xaldin. That is," she hastened to add, "if you are not busy with anything else."

Xaldin marked his page, sliding the novel back onto its shelf before nodding to Aurora. "Very well. I will give you a tour." His long cloak swished as he left the library, beckoning with a curve of his hand for Aurora to follow. Xaldin waited until she was standing in front of him before speaking again. Gloved hand upon the handle of the door, Xaldin raised a finger to command the princess' attention. "Remember what I told you."

"Not all are sympathetic to my plight, and some might do me more harm than good." Aurora kept her voice level and did not meet the eyes of her fearsome protector. She might lose the little sliver of bravery she had worked up. "I remember, Xaldin."

Xaldin held open the door, allowing Aurora to walk ahead of him. Her skirts brushed against his leg. "Stay close and don't wander from my sight." The warning, easily recognized in his smooth tenor, allowed no room for disagreement.

Aurora shielded her eyes when she stepped into the corridor. The design to this place was not like any castle she had seen. The glaring brightness, walls the colour of bleached bone, the gaping distances. Uniformity flowed up and down the passageway, one point similar to the next. Xaldin, a sharp figure of black against the spotless white, waited for Aurora to collect herself before striding down the hall.

Holding her long skirts in one hand Aurora followed. Xaldin's braided hair swung in time to his quick step; often glancing to make sure Aurora was following, III led her down the lesser used halls of the Organization's castle. Xaldin kept his eyes sharp to the presence of his colleagues. Their interference – curiosity of Aurora and what they had been told by Xemnas – would be met with disapproval.

There were no words until they crossed a balcony that was part of an expansive hall, the floor dropping away to a lower level. The gasp from Aurora, strangled and threaded with panic, caused Xaldin to swiftly pivot to see the matter. Aurora covered her mouth in fright, a finger pointing to the cause. Her alarm lay in the group of Dusks that drifted over the lower hall's blue floor, winding themselves around with no sense of purpose.

The Dusks noticed nothing until Aurora darted away from the balcony. In the middle of twitching, a Dusk caught sight of a brightly coloured skirt against the white. It craned its neck back in an awkward manner. Not recognizing the being that drew away – its masters never turned from it – the Dusk quivered and rose up. Contorting itself through the air with limbs stretching to impossible angles it perched on the upper tier's railing, looking at the new being.

This new person was warm and inviting, its body whole. _Alive_.

Aurora's heart painfully thumped against her ribcage. "What is that?" It had no eyes but it was_ looking _at her.

"Dusks. They are servants. Pay them no more attention as you would the servants in your own world." Xaldin approached the wraith-like Nobody, the smaller being shivering under its master's dead gaze. Still, it raised the tapered stump of its hands toward Aurora, sightless face questioning. Xaldin knew the Dusk sensed the princess' heart, the only heart that existed in the empty world.

Aurora saw the Dusk flinch as if struck, though Xaldin kept his hands behind his back. Curling itself over and drawing away from the daunting figure, the Dusk flipped off the balcony and returned to the others. Not moving from where she was, Aurora whispered, "It was looking at me. It had no eyes but it knew where I was." Hands bunched up her skirt, fingers tightening over the pale green cloth. Something about the Dusk, its existence to other beings that Aurora had encountered… had been vacant from it. She just knew, she could feel it.

The effect had been disconcerting.

"Now you see my advice was necessary, dear princess." Xaldin returned to stand next to her. "Dusks are not dangerous, not all the time, but you don't want to risk being alone with one. Now," he waved a hand overhead, her eyes following the gesture, "we are standing in what is called the Hall of Empty Melodies. You won't be through here often, I assure you."

Aurora shied away from Xaldin. From the explanation he gave of the Dusks or how they were still present in the hall, her unease of them remained. The hall, its cathedral glass ceiling showing the turbulent storm outside, was left behind when Xaldin moved on. Aurora resisted the urge to peer over her shoulder, wondering if one of those Dusks could be trailing behind. The princess did not dwell on the notion that the wispy Dusks would stop her rescue. After all, heroes clashed against ogres and fierce dragons. A Dusk would be no challenge. One last glance given to the glass roof, she continued walking with Xaldin.

Xaldin guided Aurora to other parts of the castle, vaguely describe the chambers and uses is passing. The remainder of the time was spent with Aurora paying attention to where she walked, memorizing the path taken. As a little girl she had found her way through woods in the dark of night. Compared to what she was doing now, it was child's play. Aurora felt the confidence in her plan grow the further Xaldin took her. She would learn by heart the twists and turns to the castle, and never once let on her true intentions. Keeping her tread light, one hand brushing along the cool wall, the maiden glanced at her escort from the corner of her eye.

"You've never told me the name of this castle… the world I am in." Spoken innocently, Aurora hoped for a response over the silence Xaldin favoured.

He raised an eyebrow in consideration. Weighing the choices and finding no damage in letting the young woman know, Xaldin smoothly answered, "The Castle That Never Was, in the World That Never Was."

"Why were those names chosen?" Xaldin acted like he hadn't heard the question, glancing out a window in passing. Wondering if she had made a mistake, the young maiden tried again. "What is the name of the group which you belong to? That rules this place?"

"Organization XIII. On occasion we are known as the Order." Another answer, as brief as the first and without a reason behind the name. Xaldin increased his stride, making Aurora walk faster in turn. The passageway blurred, the white faceless. Instead of drawing her captor into a conversation to chase away her unease, the princess let her mind wander.

Crossing over the wide glass walkways, something came to Aurora. A feeling, a growing sense of displacement that had been tickling at the back of her mind, appeared. What was suspicion grew into a hunch, and from that, a sense that would not leave her alone. It was unrelated to the fact that she considered herself a prisoner, or a form of guilt that she was using the venture about the castle to plan her escape. This feeling had come with her, crept over Aurora the very moment her eyes had opened into this world. What echoed about her every day and night.

The realization flooded her mind in the same moment Aurora looked underneath her, through the glass floor that showed a gut-wrenching drop. She understood what it was that made her ill at ease, past the company that she was forced to keep, which flowed through the castle.

There was no true life or genuine warmth in this tomb-like stronghold. Everything was hollow in the Darkness of this world. Even then, something else lurked behind the Darkness that stained Xaldin, magnified in the white halls. Aurora could almost touch it with the Light inside of her. The Princess of Heart would only catch it to have it slip like water through her fingers.

Aurora kept the epiphany to herself. She did not wish to share what she knew with Xaldin. There was no way of knowing what he might do if she said a word.

The glass walkway ended; arriving onto a dais, a dizzying view greeted the princess. The distance from where she stood to the furthest wall defied understanding. How the ceiling, swallowed by the murk, held when there were no supporting pillars made her wonder if it was magic holding the castle together. Stairs curved up and down the length of the room, disappearing around the bends.

"Are we in the centre of the castle?" Slowly adjusting to the confusing sight – how a wall with no seams could arc and hold with no support given – Aurora felt the emptiness in the open expanse press against her. Curling her fingers against the platform's railing, the young woman followed the bend of the stairs and wondered where they led to below.

"The centre for the moment," Xaldin murmured.

Aurora puzzled at the choice of his words. "What do you mean by that?" She eyed the steps. Somewhere below, there must be a gateway that led in and out of the stronghold. Lingering against the railing, Aurora moved toward the stairs.

Xaldin dismissively waved his hand. "That is of no importance, Princess Aurora. I have shown you the essential parts of the castle, and it is time for you to return to your apartments. You must be exhausted from walking. Come." He beckoned for her to follow him up the glass staircase.

She resisted, skirting to the edge of the stairs. "I would like to continue, Xaldin. I am not tired, although it is kind of you to think of me." Keeping her voice docile, Aurora took the first step down, then another. She was frightened yet confident in what she was doing. "There must be many other things to see down this way."

The hostile gaze from Xaldin stopped Aurora. "There is nothing of interest beyond this point. Hallways and rooms cluttered with junk. Things that you wouldn't understand."

Her mouth turned dry as she looked into Xaldin's commanding stare. Wondering if she had overstepped her restrictions – still another step down she took – the maiden kept her hand on the rail. "I would like to see the whole castle, Xaldin, please. There is no harm in--"

He closed the distance between them. Aurora found her keeper looming stormily over her. Reaching out, encircling the princess' slender wrist in his large hand, Xaldin tightened his grip, enough to leave bruises if Aurora struggled. "There is nothing down there," he repeated with a knowing smile on his lips. It was better for Aurora to know, that there would be few allowances he would give her. When Aurora strained against him and found that Xaldin would not yield, outright fear blossomed on her face. "The only areas of the castle that you will--"

Xaldin halted in mid-sentence, turning to the sound of footsteps ringing across the staircase, someone coming up from the lower levels. Too late to draw the princess away, the Whirlwind Lancer expected that whoever it was would remember Xemnas' speech and the conditions under which Aurora was held.

Vexen's voice carried ahead of him, dripping with forced hospitality. "What an unexpected surprise. I leave my work to take a walk, and I find you with our new guest, Xaldin." The academic nodded politely to the other Nobody, but his eyes never left Aurora's when he reached the landing. Examining, dissecting the princess.

Aurora stared at the newcomer, her curiosity winning for the moment over her caution and what Xaldin had told her of the others.

The Nobody released her from his grip, moving to block the scientist's line of sight. "A surprise indeed, Vexen." Though it was not unexpected; it would have been idiotic to think Vexen would not try to find a way around the Superior's orders. Continuing to pry, to understand as his nature led him to be. "Don't you have something to be working on? Those pixies brought back from Neverland?"

Vexen smiled thinly, trying to see around Xaldin. "Even the greatest of minds require a break. Some of my more spectacular plans come to me when I'm not working. If I may," the man moved to face Aurora, "I would like to meet the young lady."

"She has no desire to speak to you, Vexen." When the academic shrugged, Xaldin glowered, cracking the knuckles in his left hand.

"I'm enquiring to the state of our new guest, nothing more. If she is enjoying her home away from home." Ignoring Xaldin's warning look, Vexen took Aurora's hand in his gloved one, bowing slightly. Through the black leather the princess felt a deep and bone-penetrating chill sink into her flesh. The cold radiated, making the handshake painful. "Allow me to introduce myself, Princess Aurora. I am Vexen, the chief scientist of this castle. Perhaps that specific term is unknown to you. The more familiar title from your world would be alchemist."

Aurora weakly returned the scientist's greeting, grateful when he pulled away. Darkness shrouded Vexen in the same form as it did Xaldin. "Pleased to meet you," she returned his welcome and found herself dropping back into Xaldin's shadow. The longer Vexen looked at her the more uncomfortable Aurora became. She cursed her bad luck. With another person from the Order, she would never be able to find the castle's entrance. The girl caught ice-cold eyes looking too closely at her; she turned, walking away from the stare.

"Xaldin, you should bring our guest to where I work," Vexen spoke if the idea had suddenly occurred to him, not planned out hours before. "I'm sure she's interested in what a scientist--"

"And I am sure she would be bored to tears," Xaldin cut in. "Not everyone holds an appreciation for clinical and detached science as you do, Vexen. Princess Aurora would not understand one term from another, less if you were to explain anything to her."

"Don't be quick to insult the girl's intelligence. Science can be something everyone can take a part in." He smirked, looking down his nose at the dark man. "I can explain anything, given time."

The calculating moves of Vexen's intrusion, of Aurora being invited to his laboratory when others were barred, slighted Xaldin. He already knew what would happen, the scholar describing the use of needles, asking for a sample of blood, perhaps a lock of hair or a fingernail… No cloying words or phrases would be useful to dissuade the man; Xaldin fell back on using outright threats. "Remember the Superior's exact words, Vexen. Someone as intelligent as you are does not need a second reminder."

"I'm only being hospitable." Vexen's lower lip twitched.

"Do not do this to me, Vexen. Not in front of the princess." Xaldin spoke for only Vexen's ears, steely eyes promising worse. "Do not interfere where it does not concern you. If I cannot make an example of you before the others, the Superior might just be willing to."

His coercion worked. Vexen acknowledged his defeat, stepping away from the lancer. Holding his tongue, the usual haughty face that was Vexen's trademark replaced the hospitable smile. The academic's lips twisted bitterly.

"Continue your _walk,_ Vexen, and this conversation will not be reported to Xemnas. The princess and I wish you a good day."

"I'm sure the princess would wish me that," he icily agreed, fingering one of the silver tassels of his coat, "if she were here. It seems she took the liberty of slipping away while we were engaged in conversation. She doesn't feel safe in her watcher's company." Pointing over Xaldin's shoulder, Vexen's last statement held a tinge of sarcasm to it.

Xaldin had to acknowledging Vexen's words when he saw the empty space Aurora had occupied. He wasted no time in wondering where she had gone. Reluctant to return to her chambers, Aurora would not have fled up the stairs, nor would she have been capable of passing him and Vexen to the lower levels without drawing their attention. That only meant Aurora had disappeared back down the causeway they had come from.

Xaldin's advice lacked the power he thought it would have over her.

"My thanks for your… illuminating council, Vexen." Vexen's bothersome laugh, echoing down the staircase when he left Xaldin to his own pursuit, grated against the lancer. Xaldin backtracked; composed even as his mind sorted through the possibilities.

Come when he found Aurora, and there were only so many places she could hide, Xaldin would ensure she would not challenge him again.


End file.
